


what a life i'd have missed

by thatiranianphantom



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Bughead babies, Bughead wedding, F/M, Little tiny drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatiranianphantom/pseuds/thatiranianphantom
Summary: Little Bughead drabbles, exploring the future of our intrepid duo.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. and a song someone sings

_(an anastasia au)_

His job is done; he’s accomplished what he set out to do, and more. Betty smiles in the arms of her grandmother, a smile so bright it makes his chest hurt. She looks beautiful, regal, like a queen. And he will fade into the background, as he’s always done.

He’ll try to forget this time, forget whirling her in his arms and hearing her laugh, forget her sleeping against him with her soft hair tickling his chin.

He’s lied to her, he’s caused her pain, and the least he can do for her, the _best_ thing he can do for her, is to let her be mad at him, to let her forget him, while her smiles lights him inside until God takes him.

After all, princesses don’t marry kitchen boys. 


	2. i set our bridge on fire

_a little angsty specfic with ~inspiration from another show, ahem._

> “You need to leave me alone, Betty.” His voice is soft, carrying an undercurrent of tears, but his spine is rigid. The beanie he hasn’t worn in years, the one she made him, twists between his hands. His nails dig into the worn grey fabric and she wants to wind her hands into his, like he always used to when her nails made for her palms.
> 
> The words, though. The words stop her. The words form a wall between them.
> 
> “Jug?”
> 
> “You’re here,” he says, shooting up to face her. He tosses the beanie on the floor and they both look at it.
> 
> His hands fling out furiously, like he’s trying to show her something he can’t say.
> 
> “You’re always _here_.” His fingers claw into his chest, digging in to a degree that must be painful. “You’re here and you won’t leave.”
> 
> “I’m not -”
> 
> “I want to want her, Betty!” It’s a cry now. His arms fly just short of her face but she doesn’t flinch. She’s been trying to go away. She’s tried to be happy for him. She’s tried to leave him, but he’s always there too. He’s gravity, and she will always fall into his orbit.
> 
> “I want to _want_ to be with her! I want to think about her, and I want to care about her, and I want to want a future with her and I can’t do that when you’re looking at me!”
> 
> He’s inches from her face now. His eyes are looking down into hers, and she has to remind herself to breathe.
> 
> Her brain doesn’t seem to be connected to her body, because her hand shoots up and lays on his chest. Her fingers curl in, so close that she can hear the rumble of his voice, feel his breath on her ear as he presses himself even closer.
> 
> “I can’t see anything else when you look at me.”


	3. please bless this brand new life

_a bughead wedding_

They have been back together for three weeks, six days, and five hours. Nearly six now, she thinks, checking the clock on the wall. 

It’s been seven years. They are different people. He’s different, she thinks, in a lot of ways. But to describe their reunion as anything less than _coming home_ would be a lie. It feels both different and the same with him. 

With Archie, it felt…wrong. Everything about it felt wrong. And there had been men, in those seven years, but it never felt like it did with Archie. 

Nor, in a different way, like it did with Jug. She feels warmed all over. She feels like she could lie here with him until they’re a hundred and two. 

They spend the first two weekends in her hotel room, and she’s reminded of another time, a sixteen year old girl and boy lying in a hotel bed, door closed to keep out all the pain of the real world that threatened to drown them every minute. 

That room felt like a sanctuary, and so does this one. 

They’re near a break in the case, and he is looking at her. He’s really looking at her, as she bends over a stack of case files. She feels his eyes burn through her, but when she turns around, they’re soft. 

He’s looking at her like he used to. And it’s there, in the bunker, that it slips out. 

“Marry me,” he says. Just that, and then slides a hand into hers as she gapes at him.

It’s crazy. It’s fast. She’s sure most would say too fast. It’s been less than a month. There’s no ring, they’re in a musty bunker, nobody to see this but them.

But it’s also been seven years apart. And. she thinks, why wait just to wait. Why waste more time apart, when they will be together forever? 

She sets down the case file and twines herself into his arms, pressing a kiss to his lips that she hopes says everything. She lays her forehead against hers and says the only thing she feels.

“Yes. Juggie, _yes_.” 

They don’t elope, per se, but they don’t plan a wedding either. Pop officiates, there are ten guests maximum, she gets her dress from a local consignment shop.

And still, he tears up when she walks down the aisle. Still, they write their own vows and he barely gets his out for the shaking in his voice. Her fingers tremble as she places the ring on his hand, but his hands stroke her cheeks as they kiss, this time as husband and wife. 

And that night, they’re the last ones there, dancing to no music in particular. Betty lets herself drown in the feeling of the warm night, the sounds of their Riverdale around them, and her husband’s arms. 


	4. a soft epilogue

_where their story ends_

> This is how the story goes: they win. 
> 
> The world rises up to defeat them, but they stand there, hand in hand, chins jutted out in defiance, and they fight. There is dust in their eyes - they aren’t the same people they once were. What was between them fractures. It bends, but they come to realize, it doesn’t break. 
> 
> They fight. They’re bloody, and broken, but they have each other, and that’s all they need. 
> 
> They fight, and they win. 
> 
> And in the end, they still stand hand-in-hand while the world crumbles around them. 
> 
> Riverdale burns at their feet, but the flames illuminate what for so long, they’d missed. They shine on the faces of people who had abused them, used them, gaslit them. The people that didn’t light the flame, but that left a trail of gasoline in their wake. 
> 
> Their own family. The people they thought were their friends. They bury themselves in each other, whisper the biggest, most life-giving words they can to each other. 
> 
> _I love you. I trust you. I am here, always._
> 
> There are people around them, people who join the fight. People who are part of their family, the family they chose. And in the end, Riverdale is the wicked little town it always was. The town that tried to break them. There are bruises on them, bruises that will never fade, and scars covering their bodies, but they wear them as a badge of honor. As a reminder - they’re better than this town.
> 
> This is how it ends - they can’t stay. The story nears its conclusion when they say goodbye for good. They sharpen their knives, cut the ties that have shackled them to such a place as this. 
> 
> Betty and Jughead ride with the wind. They go to the city, then the coast, then a little place on the river, far, far away from Riverdale, where they tack a sign with their names intertwined. 
> 
> _Betty and Jughead Jones - Private Investigators._
> 
> This becomes their home. They stock their van well and travel, but it becomes a place to come home to; a safe place, as far away from the darkness as they can get. 
> 
> They slide rings on each other’s fingers, and on the story’s final page, a dark-haired man chases a giggling child over a beach. She flies into the arms of her mother, and her father does too. They pat the curve of her mother’s belly that holds her brother, and the wind whips through the green grass. 


End file.
